


tearing down irish curtains

by cjmasim



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Family, Gen, Mother-Son Relationship, pre-death but it's obvious what's coming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24715744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjmasim/pseuds/cjmasim
Summary: It's not until she checks in on Clay that night that Lainie realizes Justin is never coming home. His bed is still there, untouched since the night of prom. The sheets are a tangled mess, Justin having forgotten them in his haste to get to the dance, and distantly, Lainie thinks that someone is going to have to make the bed.
Relationships: Justin Foley & Lainie Jensen, Justin Foley & The Jensens
Comments: 6
Kudos: 55





	tearing down irish curtains

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time finishing a fic for this fandom, and the first time I've even thought to start one since season 1. To say Justin's death hit me hard is an understatement. Somehow, through all the crying, I noticed that Justin's bed was made in the scene where Clay read Justin's college essay, and I assumed he didn't make it himself before leaving for prom given that he was in a rush, so this idea was born. 
> 
> The title is from Irish Curtains by Grayscale.

Justin's been in the hospital for five days. Lainie's spent most of her free time in the hospital, and Matt is staying there for the night so Justin doesn't have to be alone. She's at home with Clay, although "with" is a bit of a stretch when Clay practically refuses to leave the outhouse. 

It's not until she checks in on Clay that night that she realizes Justin is never coming home. His bed is still there, untouched since the night of prom. The sheets are a tangled mess, Justin having forgotten them in his haste to get to the dance, and distantly, Lainie thinks that someone is going to have to make the bed. Or get rid of it - but no, no, she can't be thinking like that. Not now, not with Clay around.

She sits on Clay's bed, close enough to allow her to place a hand on his shoulder. Part of Lainie wants nothing more than to break down in tears; the sight of Justin's bed directly in her line of vision is dangerously close to being too much to handle. She can't cry, though. She has to be strong for Clay. He's already a mess, has been for longer than she likes to think about, and she knows that letting him see her cry isn't going to do any good. 

"Are you up to going to school tomorrow?" She asks the question she'd come in here to ask, careful to keep her voice even. It's her lawyer voice, not the gentle, motherly voice she'd prefer to use, but her lawyer voice is easier to reach for when she's on the edge of breaking down. Clay surely recognizes it, but he doesn't comment.

Clay shrugs. It's better than the flat-out "no" she'd gotten last night when she'd asked. 

"Take your time, sweetie," she says. "You can take the rest of this week off if you need to. The school has already told me they won't fault you." She's under no illusion that Clay actually cares about his attendance - as if he did even before Justin collapsed - but the silence in the outhouse is oppressive without Justin around, and Clay isn't helping to fill it. 

"Maybe," Clay answers. It's about as much as Lainie can expect to get out of him.

She forces herself to smile. "I'll let you be alone," she says, pausing in case he wants to interject. "Goodnight, Clay. I love you."

"Love you too, Mom." Clay's voice is barely louder than a mumble, but Lainie hears it as she's getting up and heading toward the door. 

She's just managed to close it behind her when the tears spill out. She lets them fall as she walks back to the main house, collapsing onto the couch as soon as she's through the front door, the memories of the phone call and the diagnosis and Justin's empty bed commandeering her mind and refusing to let go. Lainie lets it out, thinks distantly that this is the first time she's been alone since it all happened - the first time she's let herself feel the pain in all its unrestricted glory. In the hospital, she'd tried to be strong for Clay and Justin, for Jessica and all the friends who came to see him, even for Matt though she knew he was doing the same for her. 

Here, alone, only the family portrait they gave to Justin on Christmas watches her. It's the only framed photo of Justin they have in the house, and she knows they'll never get another with the whole family. 

-

It's two more days before Lainie gets the house to herself. She's home early from work, and Clay and Matt are at the hospital with Justin. She's supposed to be joining them there soon, but she figured she'd stop at home first to put together some sandwiches so they don't all have to eat hospital food. 

When she finishes making the sandwiches, she remembers Justin's unmade bed. It's perhaps the most stark reminder of Justin's imminent fate, and she can only begin to imagine what it must be like for Clay to go to bed every night and be forced to confront the fact that Justin is never coming home. She resolves to ask him if he'd like to move back into his old room as soon as he seems to be in a calm enough mood. 

("Absolutely not," Clay would say a few days later. "I can't just pretend everything is the same as it was before - before Justin came into our lives. I won't run from him."

Lainie is again reminded that Clay has had far too much experience with death for someone so young.)

For now, though, Lainie thinks that there is one thing she can do to make the outhouse a slightly less depressing place to sleep. She puts the sandwiches in a bag on the counter, next to her keys so she'll be sure to remember to grab them, and makes her way to the outhouse.

She doesn't dare change the sheets, certainly not anytime soon, but she can straighten them out. Their house will never be the same again, but at least it can look the part. 

This time, she manages to look at the bed without feeling the need to cry, but as she sits down and breathes, she's hit with the smell - of course, she'd expected that the sheets would have a hint of Justin's cologne or something else unmistakably him, but the expectation wasn't enough to prepare for her the reality. Her eyes are watering before she even registers why, and with no one around, she doesn't hesitate in letting it happen. 

Lainie isn't one to pay much attention to smells, not unless they're strong. Even when doing laundry for the family, she's never bothered to think about whether the boys' sheets smell like them, or what they even smell like at all; perhaps this indifference is what made her so unprepared. 

In the hospital, Justin doesn't look like himself. He looks weak, even if Lainie knows he's incredibly strong just by virtue of having survived. His voice is different, too, quieter than it used to be, and his touch is light and fleeting. 

Before she sat on Justin's bed, she didn't even realize that he doesn't smell like himself in the hospital either. He's far too clinical - not human, not truly alive, but another nameless patient waiting to die. 

It doesn't take long to straighten out the sheets. Even as her mind betrays her with thoughts of how she should've requested an HIV test sooner, of how she should've noticed the lesions, of how she should've done so much more to save him, even as her vision clouds with tears and her hands shake, she knows the motions too well. The bed is made, just like it used to be every day, as if Justin is at school and he'll be home any minute. 

But he won't, and Lainie knows that these sheets won't ever be messed up again.

**Author's Note:**

> Playlist and cover art for this fic can be found [here](https://lesbianlilyevans.tumblr.com/post/627373557877440512/fic-26-tearing-down-irish-curtains-ships)!


End file.
